


be in my eyes, be in my heart

by wingsifer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, Let Elias Be A Soft Bastard Ok, M/M, canon-typical levels of jon's low self-esteem, giving flowers as a sign of love, teeny tiny bit of angst, using your eldritch fear powers to show your bf you love him, very soft eldritch monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:41:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25124080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsifer/pseuds/wingsifer
Summary: It started with a flower.Elias keeps leaving flowers for Jon in the Archives and Jon is determined to figure out WHY.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 20
Kudos: 117





	be in my eyes, be in my heart

It started with a flower.

A sprig of lilac flowers attached to a statement and left on his desk sometime during his lunch break. A gift, Jon assumed hesitantly, from the deliverer of the statement. The statement itself was from Elias, but it was highly unlikely that Elias himself had placed it on his desk (Elias subscribed quite heavily to the ‘why do something yourself when you could have someone else do it for you’ school of thought). The idea that Elias would have sent a flower along with a statement was laughable, so the flower must have come from whatever unlucky person Elias had tasked to deliver the statement. The question was, why?

Jon toyed with a few possibilities as he regarded the flower on his desk. It was an accident (the lilac had been in the messenger’s pocket and had slipped out). Possible, but the flowers were placed almost directly on the paper itself, so unlikely. The most likely scenarios? It was a meaningless gesture of goodwill from an anonymous Institute employee who thought that the gloomy old archives could use some cheer (they wouldn’t be wrong). Completely harmless and non-suspicious. It was a nice gesture, but one that was completely unnecessary and a tad bit annoying. Satisfied with this conclusion, Jon decided to sweep the flower into one of his less important desk drawers and put the thought of it out of his mind. 

Or rather, he tried to put the thought of it out of his mind only for it to be pulled back to the forefront of it when he arrived at work the next day to see yet another statement on his desk. And another flower. This time, a light red carnation. Jon frowned and pulled short a few feet away from his desk. Once was a fluke, something he could figure out and then ignore, but twice? Twice was suspicious. Twice was a  _ threat _ . No one liked the archival staff enough to gift them with flowers twice in a row, and certainly no one would be trying to gift Jon flowers (the idea that someone would go out of their way to give him something nice was absurd). Maybe this was a joke by one of his assistants? Tim would be the prime suspect usually, but Jon didn’t think that with how the last couple months had gone, that Tim would be much inclined to play any jokes that weren’t malicious in nature (once upon a time, perhaps, but no Jon had burned that bridge too many times). Martin, maybe, but that would be shockingly forward of his standardly skittish assistant and besides he hadn’t come into work yet. Melanie and Basira wouldn’t give him anything other than reluctant information or a knife in the back. Daisy would just give him the knife in the back. No, it couldn’t have been any of them. That meant…

The realization that someone who didn’t work in the archives had been in his office (in HIS office with all of HIS things and HIS statements) hit him for the first time that morning and the panic hit immediately after that. His statements were in there, his notes were in there, everything he had learned about the fears that wasn’t engraved onto his body was in that office. Lord, he was such an idiot. How naive could he be to think that his office lock was sufficient against the powers that be? He should have moved all of his tapes and notes into the tunnels, even if it was an effort to get into the tunnels and even if every time he entered the tunnels he wanted to scream or tear at his skin or both at the same time. Even if every time he went into the tunnels he couldn’t stop replaying the sounds of the Not!Sasha laughing in his head. He could take it, he would have to take it if it meant keeping critical information away from his enemies. If it meant keeping the Archives and everyone in it safe. The idea of another aspect of the Stranger infiltrating the Archives made him want to-

“Oh god it’s only 8 AM and you’re already going full on paranoid again? Get a fucking grip. If you try to interrogate me again I WILL punch you, freaky Beholding Powers be damned.”

Jon was forcibly snapped out of his quickly spiralling thoughts by the presence of Tim standing in the doorway, looking equal parts annoyed and apathetic. This new Tim, the one with all the anger, the one who snapped as often as he used to joke, the one who hated Jon, was someone Jon had to treat with caution. 

“Hello, Tim” a good start, something nice and neutral delivered in a flat tone that didn’t at all match the frantic pacing of his thoughts, “Did you see who brought that statement by?” he asked, careful to not even allow a drop of compulsion into his voice (he’d made the mistake of letting his composure slip before and he’d reaped the consequences of it). 

Tim snorts, thought whether from the carefully stated question or from something else Jon wasn’t sure (once he had been able to read all of Tim’s laughs. Not anymore.). “So you haven’t been having some freaky monster affair with the double boss?” The statement could have been teasing, but the acrid edge on it left no doubt in Jon’s mind that it was an insult. The actual words, however, made significantly less sense. 

“What?” he responded eloquently, brain whirling as he tried to decipher Tim’s question. Double boss? That would be...Elias? But that didn’t make any sense? What would make Tim think that Jon was having an- _ an affair with Elias?  _

“Elias brought it by this morning. The flower as well. Who’d you kill to make it onto Resident Monster #2’s good side, hmmm?” Tim said, that same bitter tone lacing his words, turning away before Jon could answer his question (the answer being: of course he hadn’t killed anyone what the FUCK Tim???) or ask for clarification as to who Resident Monster #1 was (he only realized that that he was the hence referred to monster and the knowledge left a sinking feeling in his gut). 

This revelation left him with more questions than answers. Elias? Delivering his own statements? And bringing him flowers? It was a testament to how wildly out of sorts Jon’s life had become that this made some modicum of sense. People had treated Jon differently ever since his Eyes had been opened to the world of the fears and he had taken his place as The Archivist. Tim had become harsh, Martin had become distant, and Elias had become, well, he had become more  _ present. _ Elias called Jon up to his office every other week or so to hear a progress report or see how Jon’s compulsion ability was developing. He’d offered up more tidbits of information about the powers, had started sending him relevant statements. All of this made sense. Jon was becoming a monster of Beholding. Elias was a monster of Beholding. None of this was unusual. What  _ was  _ unusual was the strange look in Elias’ eyes whenever Jon made a particularly clever connection or knew a new fact without having to be told. The pleased smiles whenever Jon used his compulsion, the little laugh that Elias let out whenever Jon got impatient and snapped at him, the one that made him seem just that much more human, these also made little sense. Elias’ reaction had been the absolute opposite to everyone elses: responding with smiles and attention as opposed to the suspicious glares and whispers that everyone else had adopted around him (well, everyone except Martin but he suspected that even Martin’s inherent goodwill wouldn’t last much longer and Jon couldn’t even blame him for that). Jon didn’t know why Elias was acting like this, but he didn’t trust it. Elias had some sort of plan or plot going on that was almost certainly going to end with Jon’s untimely death. Just like Elias had done to Gertrude Robinson. 

Logically, Jon knew that this was bad, that Elias was a monster, and that the amount of attention he was giving Jon’s Becoming almost certainly meant that Jon was either already a monster or he was becoming one. He Knew this. And yet, he still couldn’t stop himself from looking forward to their meetings, to taking some small amount of comfort from being around someone who didn’t look at him like he was about to go on some secret-seeking rampage. He Knew this and he hated [himself] him for it. 

Elias may have been acting strangely different recently, but that still did not explain anything about the flower. If this flower statement was from Elias, did that mean that the one from yesterday had been too? Why was Elias sending him flowers? Could he be sending them because he- no that was a ridiculous, foolish, horrible line of thought he was pursuing, one that was completely nonsensical. Just because Elias wasn’t treating Jon like the enemy doesn’t mean he was sending Jon flowers out of AFFECTION. The man was a murderer after all. He HAD killed two people that Jon knew of and probably more. Was this a threat, then? That would make more sense. Jon wasn’t sure how flowers were supposed to be threatening, but Jon received the message loud and clear.

With a determinedly apathetic mindset that had to be almost entirely forced, Jon detached the carnation and threw it with more force than was strictly necessary into the same drawer he’d put the lilac in yesterday. He had important work to do, afterall, and he was determined not to let Elias’ botanical threats stop him from doing his job. 

The flowers kept coming. The next day, it was two neatly cut asters laying atop a Vast statement that he found after he’d stepped out for a smoke. The day after that, a couple of purple lilies tied with a deep green ribbon were waiting for him in the morning with a statement pertaining to Terminus (Jon had taken to using the ribbon to pull back his hair - it was convenient and quite nice looking. It had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with the incredibly pleased look on Elias’ face every time he wore it). Jon, not for the first time, wondered exactly what was going on. If the flowers didn’t relate to the statement material in the slightest, and if they were threats (which was the explanation Jon was sticking to) then he couldn’t quite understand the purpose of them. He had done some cursory research into flower languages, but clearly Elias wasn’t using flower language unless he suddenly had great love and admiration for Jon which was ridiculous. Jon kept looking into flowers in his spare time thought, looking for anything that might prove his fears valid. 

Two months later, the flowers were still coming in. The flowers came in all different species and shapes, though the purple lilies continued to make a comeback. Jon would admit this to absolutely no one, not like he had anyone to talk to about this anway, but lilies were his favorite flower and he always put them in a small vase he’d placed at the end of his desk instead of putting them in what he now referred to as his ‘flower drawer’. He was starting to smell like flowers at this point, so much now that Rosie once asked him one morning as he was coming into work what brand of perfume he was wearing. He played a little mental game with himself during his morning commute, trying to guess what type of flowers would be waiting for him. His first order of business in the morning, after checking that none of his assistants had perished over the night, was to google what the day’s flowers meant in flower language. He knew that wasn’t what Elias meant by them, the flowers were threats and he knew it, but it was fascinating to learn about what each different flower represented. The purple lilies, for instance, symbolized pride and admiration, which Jon thought was fitting for Elias, the smug bastard. 

It was unsettling how quickly Jon became adjusted to the flowers as a daily occurrence. It was even more unsettling how much Jon found himself looking forward to the next day’s flowers. Jon kept waiting. Waiting for Elias to get to the point, to explain what he was doing, to explain how this fell into his diabolical master plan. Or, waiting for Elias to stop. Waiting for him to come into work one day and find his desk bare of colorful petals and bright leaves. Which would be GOOD, he told himself firmly, very specifically pushing aside the part of him that dreaded the moment that Elias stopped looking at him...looking at him like he cared.

The moment never came. Jon continued to receive flowers. Elias continued to smile at him. Tim continued to make scathing comments about Jon’s eldritch monster boyfriend. Martin continued to refuse to meet his gaze. Jon found this stasis equally comforting and oppressive. The uncertainty, the waiting for the ball to drop, caused Jon no small amount of tension. He threw himself deeper into archiving, staying late and forgetting to pause for meals, only pulling himself out of his work haze when Elias called for him or he recognized that it was time for him to pack up and leave. When he was The Archivist he wasn’t thinking about flowers and being watched and lost friends and sinister plots. All he had to focus on was the Unknowing, which was horrifying but a distant sort of horrifying. A horrifying that wasn’t directed at him, at least not yet. It was much easier to deal with something apart from him than it was to deal with his own problems. And it was easy to convince himself that his problems could wait when the fate of the world hinged on his ability to stop the Unknowing.

The tension finally broke when Jon went into his office one morning to find a statement tucked between half a dozen red roses. He froze immediately at the sight of them. He didn’t have to Know or google what these meant. He wasn’t an idiot. There were two distinct meanings of the rose. The threat was obvious in the hooked thorns. The flower itself though, that could mean something completely different. Something that absolutely could not be true. 

Jon suddenly found himself very angry. He was tired of the uncertainty, the doubt, the fear. Fuck Elias for threatening him in this manner. He still wasn’t sure what sort of elaborate game Elias was playing at, but he knows that he doesn’t appreciate being manipulated. He doesn’t appreciate Elias’ double meaning and veiled statements and he doesn’t appreciate it when people pretend to care about him. He is Jonathan Sims, the Archivist, avatar of the Beholding, and he will not be made a fool because of Elias Bouchard and some flowers. 

He grabs the roses of the desk in one hand, ignoring how the thorns stab into the palm of his hand and storms up the Elias’ office. He wasn’t thinking cognitively right now. All he could feel was the white hot rage in his blood and the faint beat of mingled hope in fear in the left side of his chest. He doesn’t bother knocking; Elias could see him coming (hell, he probably expected this, the arrogant bastard).

Elias had the audacity to look perfectly composed, if not a little bit confused, when Jon flung his office door open and threw the roses down onto his desk, dislodging some petals onto Elias’ paperwork. Elias considered the flowers for a moment before looking up at Jon with a raised eyebrow.

“If you’re going to threaten me at least have the decency to do it to my face,” Jon snapped at him, feeling even more offended by Elias’ calm demeanor and raised eyebrow. Jon was hoping for a reaction, any sort of emotion at all from Elias would have sufficed, and he was briefly mollified by the quickly smoothed over look of anger (and what Jon would have sworn was even a flash of hurt) on his face. 

“I’m going to need the context here because I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about” he replied, his voice as smooth and calm as it ever was. 

Jon scoffed. So this is how he was going to play it then, huh. Denial denial denial. How typical. “Drop the act. I know you keep sending me these as some sort of bizarre threat, what the hell are you playing at Bouchard?” He demanded, anger dropping his tone of the, grantedly very small amount of, tact it normally had. 

That got another reaction. Confusion, followed immediately by amusement. When Elias next spoke, it was clear to Jon he was working at keeping a grin of his face. The bastard. 

“You think that all the flowers I’ve been giving you have been some sort of insidious threat against you?” Elias’ mouth tugged at the corners and he said it like he couldn’t quite believe it, but that it was a fascinating and amusing concept (the way you might react to a friend’s just barely believable party stories). 

Jon wasn’t sure what he was expecting from this encounter, but this wasn’t it. He had been prepared for shouting, for anger, perhaps even for villainous monologuing. He’d been prepared for a fight with Elias, he’d been prepared to stand his ground. He’d been prepared to have to compel. He hadn’t been prepared for amusement, and the response threw him off balance. So he went on the defensive. 

_ “What else would it be?” _ he forced as much compulsion into his voice as he could, set on dragging whatever answers he could from Elias before the man inevitably killed him. Elias inhaled sharply and let the smile he’d been holding finally slip onto his face. He let out a satisfied hum that did strange things to Jon’s before responding

“Jonathan, please think about it. Why do people normally give others flowers?” 

Jon wasn’t an idiot. He had thought about all the possible reasons that Elias could be doing this. Now that his ‘it’s a threat’ theory had been kind of tossed out the window, he was forced to consider the alternative. The alternative that made that little spark of hope in his chest burn just a bit brighter. 

“Well, erm, I guess some people give flowers as a symbol of their affection and wait- are you courting me?” Jon jerked up as the realization hit him, staring at Elias with a mixture of shock and confusion and hope and fear. The smug grin on Elias’ face just grew and the part of Jon’s mind that was still somewhat functioning noted that this was an unfairly attractive expression on him.

“I have been for the last few months now but thank you for finally realizing,” Elias said smoothly, standing up and coming around his desk so that he was standing directly in front of Jon. He was close enough to be deliberately in Jon’s personal space, but not so close that Jon felt compelled to step back or push him away. Jon didn’t understand what was happening. Elias was, but he couldn’t. Elias was a heartless monster. Elias was supposed to be a heartless monster. This was not how this was supposed to go. Jon’s fingers started clenching and unclenching unconsciously as his mind struggled to catch up. Elias. Elias had romantic feelings for him. Elias was courting him. Elias. Elias. Elias.

This was not how this was supposed to go.

“But, but you can’t? Not for me. How could you possibly- about me?” Jon distantly recognized that he wasn’t making very much sense but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how he was supposed to be forming actual sentences right now. Jon couldn’t understand how anyone could possibly hold romantic feelings for him. He wasn’t exactly relationship material. Most of the time he was either a complete disaster or he was a fear eating monster. There wasn’t a lot about him to love. And it was Elias? Elias, the Watcher. Elias the person who always Knew. Elias, the person who could always See him. Oh god. Oh god he couldn’t do this. 

“Jonathan? Jonathan, may I show you something?” 

Elias was standing even closer now, there was barely more than three inches between them. Jon hadn’t noticed him move. Elias was staring intensely at Jon, capturing his gaze and stopping him from thinking about anything except Elias in this moment. Elias moved slowly, raising his arms up to take Jon’s face in his hands. It was gentler than Jon expected it would be. For a moment, Jon thought perhaps he was about to be kissed.

Then he Saw.

Elias’ mind pushed its way into his effortlessly, washing away any thoughts Jon might have been having. There was a rapid fire flash of images superimposed into his mind. It took Jon a second of this to realize they were all images no, memories, of him. There were Elias’ memories of him. The memories flashed by too quickly for Jon to focus on anyone, and after a couple dizzying seconds of this memory barrage, the images solidified into one. It was a recent memory of Jon, he was standing in the Archives, hair tied back with green ribbon, and he was holding a bouquet of purple lilies in his arms. In the memory, he was staring down at the flowers with a look of faintly bewildered awe. He looked...so soft. Jon didn’t realize he was even capable of looking soft, not with the worm scars and the burn marks, but seeing himself through Elias’ eyes, he looked completely different than Jon thought he looked like.

Then the emotions came through.

Unlike the images, the emotions trickled in slowly as not to overwhelm him. Fondness was the first. A gentle feeling that settled over him like warm air. It felt safe and comforting. Then, a sharp urge to protect, a desire to hold and to keep safe. Next, pride, fierce and intense. He could FEEL the admiration and steadfast belief that Elias held for him. It was touched by something, something indescribable and confusing. Jon suspected this must be the influence of the Beholding on how Elias Saw him. Being even that wasn’t as discomforting as it ought to have been. It felt...right somehow. The emotions kept building up and multiplying. Fondness and protectiveness and pride and joy and interest and awe and 

Oh. OH.

And love.

Such intense love, a love or such magnitude and sincerity that Jon was sure he had never felt before in his life. He wasn’t even aware that it was possible for someone to feel such a love for someone else. It was pure and intense and all consuming and Jon Knew that he could feel it every second of every minute of every hour of every day and not get tired of it. And this was how Elias felt about him. He was the center of Elias’ world. Every action he took, everything he did or said or felt was the most important thing that had ever happened to Elias. Every moment that he had ever spent with Elias, he Knew, was ingrained very deeply in Elias’ memory. He was vaguely aware that part of this, this connection between them, was because of The Archivist and The Watcher, but that seemed wildly insignificant under the weight of Elias’ very human, very present love for him.

Elias withdrew from his mind slowly, allowing that beautiful, perfect love to linger and mix with Jon’s own consciousness. When he came back to the awareness of himself, Jon found that he was pressed against Elias’ chest, one of Elias’ arms circling around him, rubbing reassuring circles into his back. Sometimes during the...whatever that was, Jon guessed that he must have pitched forward and that Elias must have caught him. Like he always would. Because. Because he loved him. He  _ loved  _ Jon.

“Do you understand now?”

Elias’ words were soft, murmured gently against his cheek. Elias pulled back slightly and Jon was hit with the sudden fear that Elias was going to let him go. His thoughts were still fuzzy, his mind still reeling from the implications of all he had Seen and Known, but he did think that he would be greatly upset if Elias was to stop holding him. Elias did not let go of him, however. He simply moved the hand that was brushing Jon’s temple to his cheek. It came away damp. Oh. Jon hadn’t realized he was crying. He nodded very slightly against Elias’ hand. Oh yes. He understood  _ perfectly  _ now. Elias let out a slow breath, and it occurred to Jon for the first time that perhaps Elias had been worried about this, about sharing the depths of how he felt with Jon. 

“I love you, Jonathan.”

“I Know.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song Flowers In Your Hair by The Lumineers
> 
> The meanings of the flowers I used in this fic according to google:  
> \- lilac: first love/new love  
> \- light red carnation: admiration  
> \- aster: patience and charm  
> \- purple lily: pride and admiration  
> \- red roses: love 
> 
> Woooo! Thank you guys so much for reading my *very first fic*!!! I was really nervous to write this and post it because I legitimately have not written fiction since 11th grade creative writing class,,,I'm in college now. This was so much fun and I'm definitely going to write more now!  
> Shout-out to everyone in Gay Baby Jail (you know who you are) for enabling me to write this and for giving me you're absolute Best late night JonElias thoughrs. I had such a good time writing this I hope yall enjoy!!!
> 
> If you want to chat about this fic or anything tma related with me, you can find me on twitter @wingsifer or on discord @ lesbianelf#1069 :):):)


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